The Weight of a Choice
by Skalidra
Summary: In the middle of a fight, a building collapses on top of Dick and Jason. They're trapped, Dick might be injured, and Jason definitely is. All they can do is wait to be rescued, but there's just one problem. Jason's the one holding the rubble up, and his strength isn't going to last for long. - Jason/Dick. Prompt Fill.


Hello! So, this is another prompt! An anonymous one, for prompt 44, "If you die, I'm going to kill you." with Jason/Dick. It didn't really turn out very shippy, but I quite like it anyway. Hope you enjoy!

 **Warnings** for: fairly serious character injury.

* * *

I come awake to two hands on my face, thumbs on my cheeks and a worried voice repeating my name. A voice that I recognize after a moment as Jason, as I slowly manage to drag my eyes open.

"Dick, _Dick_ , come on, you son of a bitch. It's not that bad, it's _not that bad_." The thumbs swipe across my cheeks, and I stare upwards. My world spins and my vision is hazy, something dark blocking most of my left eye and even what I can see is dark and doesn't make much sense. "Don't you dare die on me, Dick, not like this. I will _follow_ you down there and drag your ass back up here so I can kill you myself. You hear that, golden boy? If you die, I'm gonna kill you. Don't you make me do that."

I can taste blood on my tongue, rich and fresh, and I can feel the hot rush of air against my face. The air tastes and smells like dirt and smoke, which makes sense somewhere in the back of my mind, but there's also the heavy scent of blood. Either it's close to my nose, or someone is bleeding. Badly.

"God, Dick, _please_ wake up," Jason says, and it's soft and a plea, something strained and desperate. "I can't do this without you, you stupid bastard. I _can't_ do this alone. How the fuck am I supposed to tell everyone I got you killed? How am I supposed to live with that?"

My vision stabilizes a bit, and I manage to make sense of what I'm seeing. It _is_ mostly dark, apart from some light source low down by my feet. Jason is above me, only a few inches at most separating us, and I can't make out details on his face — my sight's still fuzzy — but he looks pale and scared. Behind him, and to either side, are the irregular shadows and shapes of rocks and rubble. I think my mask is still on, which would explain the black part of the vision in my left eye, if something is smeared over it.

That means I'm probably in my Nightwing suit, and I…

I part my lips, and manage to breathe out a husky, "I don't remember you dropping the building on us, Jason."

He jerks a bit, and then gives a rough laugh. "Dick, you're alive! Jesus, thank _fuck_ , I thought—" I start to shift a bit, and instantly Jason cuts off and snaps, " _Don't move_." He sounds way beyond serious, so I let the preparatory tension in my muscles drain right back out and relax as much as I can against whatever I'm lying on. "Don't—" He barks out another laugh, this one much quieter. "Rubble's not that stable, and I… I don't know how badly you're hurt."

I swallow down my dry throat, wincing at the taste of blood but making myself try to wet my throat anyway. "Are we trapped?" I ask. "B? The family?"

"They got out before it came down," Jason reassures me, and his mouth twists into a grimace. "We're getting air from somewhere or we'd be dead already, but I— I can't move, and you _shouldn't_ move. They'll find us; they know we're in here."

"Can't?" I echo. I shift enough to decide there's nothing wrong with me that could be fatal, and figure out where I'm touching rubble. Not much, actually. I'm definitely in pain, but it feels like bruises and maybe a broken right calf, which would make sense since that part of my leg has something heavy on top of it. Nothing feels bad enough to be internal damage, and my head throbs but there's not much I can do about that while we're stuck in here. The blood on my tongue is from a cut on the inside of my right cheek, and it feels like the right shape to be from my teeth getting snapped together over it.

So I pull myself together and raise my right arm, up towards Jason's chest. He almost snarls at me, but then winces. With my hand on his chest, I can feel the slight tremble that shakes him. I slide my hand back, around his side, and my hand hits what's definitely rubble. I suck in a sharp breath as the realization hits me, and my fingers don't find any gap between the rubble and his back.

"Jason," I breathe, finally realizing his positioning. His elbows are braced to either side of my head, his legs on either side of mine. It's protective if I've ever seen it, and I have no idea what happened after my head smacked into concrete, but you don't get stuck holding up rubble with your back over another person by _accident_. "How much are you holding up?" I ask, lowering my hand down to touch his cheek.

He gives a strained and crooked smirk, but there's no real humor in it. "I don't know. A lot? Could be just a rock, could be half the damn building. Can't really test it." He winces again, his eyes squeezing shut as he bares his teeth and draws in a slow breath. His head bows a bit, and I can feel a second tremble slip through him. "Just, really hoping B finds us pretty soon," he admits, his voice quiet and maybe a little desperate.

That trembling… Is that just muscle exhaustion, or something nastier?

"Are you hurt?" I ask, trying to twist my neck to see down his body. It's too dark, and his armor's black on top of that, so I can't see much of anything. His jacket is missing, and so is his helmet, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's hurt. They're meant to take damage.

Jason huffs out a breath. "Doesn't matter," he mutters.

"It matters to _me_ ," I snap.

"There's nothing you can do!" His voice is a snarl, but then he gasps and grimaces, a low sound of pain making it through his teeth. A stronger tremble, and the rubble above him makes an alarming grinding noise and releases a shower of dust and dirt down on us. I almost automatically grab his shoulders, pressing him up a bit like that's going to stop any of this from collapsing on top of us.

Once it's gone silent again, I cautiously release his shoulders. "Tell me what happened." It comes out as more of a request than a demand, but that's better. Jason responds better to being asked than being ordered.

His breath is a little uneven, but he shifts his head in a small nod. "Two parts. First floor collapsed, you probably remember that part. You hit your head, something hit me at the wrong angle, tore right through the armor on my side. Then the rest of the floors came down. You were just—" He cuts off, barks a laugh and ducks his head a little farther. "You were just lying there and I couldn't… I got over you in time, but…"

He's quiet, and I can only see a small bit of his face. "But what?" I press. "Jason, _tell me_."

His breath catches, and there's something strained and panicky in his voice. "I can't feel anything past my left knee. There was just this— this _crunch_ when the rubble hit me, and my knee feels shattered but I can't… It's just _not there_."

I swallow, and then I slide my gloved hands up to touch his face, my right lightly curling through his hair. "Jason, you're going to be alright. You hear me? You're going to be fine." I comb his hair back, and realize that it's damp. Whether that's sweat or blood, I can't tell in the dim lighting. Considering it's most of his hair, I'd guess just sweat. God I hope I'm right. "Stay calm for me, alright?"

I can see his shoulders give another tremble, but he takes in a shallow breath and tilts his head into the hand I have resting on his cheek. "It fucking hurts," he says, quiet and with a laugh biting at the heels of his words. "Thought I was supposed to be the one comforting you."

"I'm the older brother," I point out, and that gets him to look up at me, his eyes flicking open. He definitely _looks_ like he's in pain, and I'm starting to think the pale tinge to his skin might be blood loss, not fear. He did say that something tore through his armor.

"I'm bigger," is his comeback, quickly followed by, "and you're the one on your back."

Before I can think about it, my mouth starts moving. "Only sometimes." Then I sharply click my mouth shut, because _oh_ I just said that.

Jason is staring at me, and then his mouth curls into a smirk and he snorts. "If I could laugh without dumping the building on us, you bet your ass I would be. I thought you were more for jokes than flirting, Dick."

I give a tiny shrug. "Sometimes I just say things to correct people and don't think the double meanings through first. Not usually, but…" I swallow, and admit, "When I'm distracted, sometimes."

I lower my hand out of his hair as he processes my words, sliding it down along his chest to try and find the tear in his armor. "You saying I'm—" My fingers find the gash, and he cuts off and groans, his teeth clenching together for a second. " _Fuck_. Distracting?" I can feel wet warmth soaking through my glove pretty quickly, and resist the nearly automatic tensing of my jaw as I map the length of the cut. It starts near the bottom of his rib cage, and then around his waist and partway onto his lower back. "Feeling me up too. Didn't think you were much for opposite genders either."

"There are things you don't know about me," I answer softly. "How long have we been here?"

"Not long," he answers, sounding breathless as I pull my hand away from his side and back up to his face. "A couple of minutes before you woke up, maybe? Felt like longer, but that was probably it."

"Sounds like _I'm_ the distracting one."

Jason snorts, his mouth slipping into a strained smile. "Yeah, usually." I don't have an answer for that, and after a few moments Jason tilts his head into my hand and closes his eyes. "So, I've got a few 'things have gone to hell' confessions to make, just in case."

My jaw clenches, and I regret it a second later when my head throbs in pain. "Jason, _no_. You're going to be just fine; they'll get us out of here. B would never—"

"God, shut up, Dick. Just listen, alright? If things— If they go badly, I need someone to know." His shoulders shift a little bit, his head ducking. "I'm not— I'm not mad at B. I was, for a _long_ time, but I'm not anymore. I still think he's wrong, and I'd be pissed as hell if Joker ever got another one of us, but I'm not angry with him. He needs to know that; he'll tear himself apart if he doesn't." He swallows, and I watch a tremble slide through his arms. The rubble makes another disturbing grating noise. "Just tell Tim to ask Superboy out and get it over with; idiot talks about him enough to make me sick with how damn in love he is."

I can't help smiling a little bit at that, even as I slide my fingers across his cheek, trying to ignore that my glove is damp with his blood. "Alright," I whisper. "I'll tell them if things go badly, Jason, but they're _not_ going to. You're not bleeding that badly, and I can support you if you can't hold the rubble up."

"Don't lie to me," Jason says, and it should be snapped but it comes out soft instead. "I know the feelings, Dick. Remember? I know what dying feels like, and this isn't that far off. And I _am_ bleeding badly; can feel that too. They get us out of here in the next five minutes, I might stand a chance if we're lucky. Past that… They'd never get me to a hospital fast enough, and field dressing won't cut it for what my side feels like."

"Jason…"

His eyes flick open, and he gives a crooked smile. "I know my chances. We both do." He leans into my hand, and then lets the smile fall away. "You… I'm sorry, Dick. For everything I've done to you. To the family. I stand by what I think, about killing, but I should never have taken it out on all of you." His eyes flicker, and then he grimaces and tenses up, prying his eyes back open. "Dick, I… It's a shitty thing to do, I know, but… I care about you, Dick. More than a friend, or a brother. Never told you; figured you were straight and it didn't matter." I stare up at him, lost for words, and Jason gives a soft snort. "Yeah. Not looking for an answer; don't worry. Just, needed you to know before I die."

I clench my jaw again, ignoring the pain and tightening my grip in his hair. "Jason, I'll get you out of here, okay? You're not going to die, I'll _get you out_."

"Not up to you, Dick," Jason breathes, and then his eyes are flickering shut again. "I can't… _Dizzy_." His shoulders twitch down, his head falling, and the rubble above us makes another one of those noises.

"Jason, _no_." I give a tiny jerk to his hair. "Come on, _look_ at me. I need you awake, Jason. You need to be awake to hold that ceiling up, and you _can't_ die on me." He swallows, and slowly his eyes drag back open. "Jason, stay focused on me. Come on. We've both survived worse than this, you'll be okay."

He gives a weak laugh. "Optimist," he murmurs, like it's supposed to be an insult. "Not sure I can keep it up." Another weak laugh, this one verging on hysterical. "Not usually a problem for me."

His shoulders droop some, a thick tremble shaking them, and I freeze at the horrible grinding noise of the concrete above us. I slide my hands to the front of his shoulders, pressing up to try and offer him just a little support. He stills, but the grinding noise doesn't stop. I can see him swallow, feel the slow, uneven rush of his breath against my face.

"Think we're fucked?" he asks, his voice quiet and weak.

It's getting closer.

"I think…" I listen, and Jason's head drops another inch while I do. "I think that's B. Jason, _wake up_ , I think that's them." His eyes are still open, and he flinches when I shout, " _Here!_ " with as much volume as I can muster.

The grinding stops, and I get one heartstopping moment of thinking I'm wrong before it starts again, closer and more to my right side. I look up at Jason, who tilts his head towards the sound and then gives a weak laugh.

"Right after all, golden boy," he whispers.

The rubble to the side of us crumbles away, and I wince at the bright light that shines in through the gap. But it's enough to see Bruce, cowl intact and both Tim and Damian at his shoulders. They're kneeling, so we must be buried pretty far down. Jason's head twists to look at them, and then I watch his eyes light up and his muscle tense up. He pushes up a little bit, his mouth curling into a snarl.

" _Go_ ," he hisses.

I carefully release my support of his shoulders, and then scrunch myself up so I can slide underneath his arm and out beneath him. I feel Bruce's hands on my arms, supporting my back and helping drag me out.

"Careful," I manage to gasp, "my leg."

The weight lifts off it, though I miss which of them does it, and Bruce drags me out the rest of the way. My broken calf hits Jason's possibly shattered knee on the way out, and I hiss at the same time as he shouts. My eyes snap back open at the grinding of concrete, and I stare in horror as I watch Jason's leg give out, and his arms shake under the added weight as that leg slides out and stops supporting its share. From there my gaze rises to the concrete at his back, and then up to the precariously supported rubble based on that rock. I don't know _how_ he's managing to hold that much weight, and I can see the problem at just a glance.

There's no way we can deconstruct that pile before it's too late, not without bringing it down on his head.

I drop my gaze back to Jason, who looks up at me. His eyes are wild and desperate, but resigned. He knows. I catch sight of that gash in his side, and I understand now that I can see it in the light. Of course he knows; the armor is soaked through and dripping and there's no way he could lose that much blood and not understand that he's dying. Now that I can see the weight on him, I also understand why he was so convinced this was the end for him. If he was supporting that much weight from the start, then the only reason he could possibly have held together was for me. Adrenaline can work real miracles, but even Jason isn't strong enough to hold that much up for very long. Especially not with the blood loss eating at him, or the pain of whatever's wrong with his leg.

Bruce sets me down, and I can see Tim and Damian moving forward to pull the pile apart. Fast, but not nearly fast enough. Not even when Bruce goes to help.

I hold Jason's gaze, and he gives me a tiny, strained smile and then mouths, " _Tell them."_

 _No_. I am _not_ losing Jason. Not again. So I tilt my head back, draw a deep breath into my lungs, and shout, " _Kal-El!_ "

Bruce jerks a bit, his head whipping around to stare at me, and Jason flinches before his eyes widen. That's all the reaction anyone gets before there's a rush of air, a blur of blue and red, and Clark is landing next to me in full Superman costume.

"Nightwing?" he asks, concern obvious in his expression and his tone.

I jerk my chin towards Jason, and then get out, "Save him," before Clark is moving.

One shoulder hooks underneath the rubble, and then both hands ease Jason out from underneath it with gentle, careful movements. That doesn't mean that Jason doesn't grit his teeth together and give a strangled cry, but Clark is as careful as he can be. At least until he shifts out from under the rubble, and lets it crash down. I suck in a sharp breath at the thought of all of that coming down on Jason, as Clark carries him up towards me and carefully lays him down. Jason is pale, and I push myself up a little farther to look down at his side. Bruce is still moving when I make my decision.

"Cauterize it," I order, raising my gaze up to Clark. He winces, and Bruce comes to a sudden stop about five feet away.

Bruce's voice is hard. "Nightwing, _no_ —"

"He's not going to make it if he keeps bleeding," I snap at Bruce, before looking up to hold Clark's gaze. "Even if you get him to a hospital right now they're not going to be able to stop the bleeding fast enough. Burn it closed. _Now_."

Jason shivers, but I only look down when his hand grabs my lower arm. His eyes are lidded, and he looks just a few steps from passing out, but he squeezes my arm and keeps my gaze. "My leg," he breathes. " _You_ make the choices." Then he shifts his head up to Clark, and whispers, "Do it."

Clark looks uncertain, but after a glance at Bruce he sinks down to his knees next to Jason. "It's going to hurt," he warns, and Jason snorts.

"No _shit_." His hand slides down to grip mine, and I nod up at Clark.

He reaches forwards, and Jason shivers when his hands pin Jason's side down, carefully framing the gash in his side. His eyes glow red, and then Jason is jerking and _screaming_ , his hand clenching down on mine. It only lasts a couple seconds, as Clark sears the wound closed and then pushes Jason onto his side to get the portion of it that stretches onto his back. Jason sobs out a breath, his hand tight enough on mine that it feels like he might break it. Then Clark stops, lets go, and Jason goes all but limp. His eyes are fluttering, unfocused, and then they fall shut and the last bit of tension leaves him.

I pull my hand away, and look up at Clark. "Get him to a friendly hospital, then come back for me." He pauses just long enough to be sure that I'm not going to say anything else — at least I think that's what he's doing — then he's picking Jason up and taking off. I let myself fall back, giving into the urge to grit my teeth together at the pain in my head and my calf. I can almost _feel_ Bruce moving closer.

"Nightwing—"

"Don't," I snap, turning my head to look up at him. "We couldn't have gotten him out in time, B, you _know_ that. He still might not make it. I don't care about your pride, not when Jason's life is in the balance and someone else can help him a whole lot quicker than we can." Bruce doesn't look happy, but he's not arguing with me which means I'm right. Not that I ever doubted it. "I'm going to that hospital. I'll give the doctors all the information they'll need to treat him, and get my leg and head seen to while I'm there. If you want to come along that's fine, but I am _not_ leaving Jason alone in there. I've made my decision."

I can see Tim and Damian at the edges of my vision, hovering at opposite sides. Tim looks uncertain, and Damian looks like his normal guarded self but the way he's standing says he's uncertain too. I don't blame them. None of my predecessors have ever liked being between Bruce and me when we're arguing, and I understand that. No one likes being between us.

Luckily for them it doesn't last long. Before Bruce can come up with anything to say, or any answer, Clark's back. He hesitates for just a moment, and then pulls me into his arms and takes off. I let him, and try to ignore the lingering doubt in my head of what kind of damage Jason might be left with, even after he's awake.

* * *

I spend a long time at Jason's side, watching him breathe and ignoring the pain of my newly set and bound calf. The painkillers do a decent enough job allowing me to ignore it, but enough to actually stop the pain would make me loopy, and I want to be clearheaded when Jason wakes up. Because he's going to.

It was close, and they weren't sure for a bit, but he stabilized once they'd gotten a decent amount of blood in him. They still kept him unconscious for surgery — I think it was a good call, considering the x-rays I saw — but now we're back in Gotham, and the sedatives are out of his system. It's just a question of when he feels like waking up, and I don't think it's going to be that much longer. Jason is stubborn and strong, and one of the people I trust most at my back. We might have one hell of a complicated past, but Jason is family. Even without his about-to-die confessions, I knew that he was part of us again.

I was _not_ expecting his other confession, but I can't say it really surprises me. I knew Jason was looking at me, but I tend to ignore that. Almost everyone looks, even if they don't swing my direction, and it's just what I'm used to. I didn't expect Jason to actually feel anything behind it though; I've never known him to _care_ for anyone like that.

Maybe I just don't know him very well.

I can't believe that Jason is actually a virgin, there's no way that's true, especially not with the comments he's made before. Has he had relationships before, or has he just had casual sex and learned that way? I know he had a girlfriend when he was Robin, and much younger, but I know it never went that far. I know he's close to Roy and Kori now, but that doesn't mean anything either. Kori can be free about sexuality, but I honestly can't say whether or not Jason's slept with either of his teammates. I just don't know. If he did, did it mean anything? I don't know that either.

So I knew that Jason cared for me as family, and I knew that he respected me, I just didn't translate that to actually wanting more. It still doesn't really surprise me. I didn't expect it, but it makes a certain sense.

What I want to do with it, now that's a _totally_ different question. One for another time too. I'm not making any of these choice while my leg's broken and Jason's in a hospital bed. Maybe when we're both better I'll make the decision of whether or not that's something I want to explore. The most I can decide at the moment is it's not an automatic 'no.'

I'm not involved with anyone else, he doesn't repulse me, and he just saved my life — nearly at the cost of his own — so I know he's got a good heart underneath that bad boy shield. I've always noticed that he's good-looking, even if he isn't my classic choice of partner. Alright, I might have a thing for redheads, but that doesn't mean they're the only people I find attractive. Jason is handsome, tall, and capable. That makes him pretty appealing. So I can consider it. Later, when we're out of this place and at least mostly recovered.

I fade in and out a bit, but I keep myself tuned to the beat of his heart monitor. When it gets faster, I jolt awake.

Jason's eyes are partially open, and his head is turned over towards me. He looks dazed, tired, but he's awake. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice quiet and just a little rough.

I shift up in my chair, almost remembering too late that I need to use my arms, not my broken leg. Luckily, I catch it in time, and straighten up just with the power of my arms. "Hey," I answer, with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

He blinks, shifting a bit and then giving a small shrug. "Pretty decent, considering." He shifts a little more, and then winces. "Still can't feel my leg, what's the news?"

I reach forward, lightly touching the back of his hand. "They numbed it out after your surgery, that's why you can't feel it. Doctor spewed a lot of technical medical jargon I didn't quite understand, but the basics are there was some kind of nerve block, but they fixed it. Your leg's going to be just fine after rehab, Jason, it's just numb at the moment so you didn't come awake to that kind of pain."

Jason stares at me, and then he gives a rough bark of laughter as his mouth curls in a grin. "Yeah?" he asks, and I smile back at him because that's definitely _hope_ in his tone.

"Yeah, Jason." I take his hand in mine, and give it a small squeeze. "You're gonna be just fine. Promised, didn't I? I've got all the files if you want to take a look through them once you're clear headed, or someone a little more medically capable can talk you through them if you want."

His grin slips to a small smile, and his eyes close again. For a second I think he might be falling asleep, and then he squeezes my hand and looks back up at me. "Nah; I trust you. You okay too, Dick?"

I give a small nod, "Yeah, just fine. Few bruises and a broken calf; nothing big. Guess I don't have to deliver your dying comments to anybody, do I?"

He snorts, smirks, and then it fades off his face. He holds my gaze, and then squeezes my hand again. "Thanks for making that call," he whispers. "Calling Superman; nice play." I watch his mouth curl into a tight smile. "B must've been pissed."

I shrug, taking comfort in the wrap of his hand around mine. "Still is," I admit. "You're going to have one hell of a scar, sorry about that."

The small shift of his shoulders has to be a shrug, because his grip on my hand tightens a fraction and he smirks again. "Small price to pay." The smirk softens to a smile, one soft enough I almost think the drugs are seriously affecting him. But then he murmurs, "Thanks for saving my life, Dick."

I smile back at him, letting how much I love him shine through. Not as more than just family, but maybe that can change at some point. We'll see. "Thanks for saving mine, Jason. We're more than even."

His eyes drift shut, and then he drags them back open as he breathes out, slow and steady. "Going to stick around?" he asks, and I can't help but hear it as a request.

"Of course," I promise. "I'll try to be here when you wake up too. Might be passed out myself, but I'll be here."

He smiles again, squeezes my hand, and lets his eyes close. "See you then, golden boy."


End file.
